


Rising Dawn

by Ga_Peach



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Adoptive family, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Courting Rituals, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pride and Prejudice References, Rejection, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, We’ll pretend that Micah isn’t an ass in this fic, but only for a little bit, period drama, very little homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ga_Peach/pseuds/Ga_Peach
Summary: There aren’t enough period-drama AUs for Carry On so here you go:A completely self-indulgent Pride and Prejudice AU with a gay twist. Other than that, this is literally Pride and Prejudice.“Why haven’t you found a wife yet, Simon?” She’d asked me that night. I simply blinked at her. The truth was, I wasn’t quite sure. Women simply didn’t interest me in the way they were supposed to; at least, none of the women I’d ever met had interested me other than Penny and Agatha, and I could never look at them as any more than friends.Perhaps, one day, I’ll meet a woman who interests me like she’s supposed to, and we’ll marry and have children and lead the rest of our lives in happiness. Perhaps I just haven’t met the right woman. Perhaps when I do I’ll no longer lay awake at night wondering if there might be something wrong with me.Perhaps I’ll have dreams of her rather than the faceless men who plague my sleep with their sweet lips and embrace…I answer none of this to Penny. Instead, I agree with her. “I guess I don’t want to settle either.” Is what I go with, and she smiles at me.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce/Micah Cordero, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 23
Kudos: 65





	1. Barely Tolerable

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! If you are a reader from my other fics such as The Groom’s Florist, know that those fics have not been abandoned!!! I hope to update very soon, but for now I’m going to be working on this fic. Thank you for putting up with the long wait :))) 
> 
> Without further ado, here is my Carry On Pride and Prejudice AU! (I’m still not completely sure about the name, so if you have recommendations let me know!)

**Simon**

Nothing ever happens here. At least nothing interesting ever happens here. 

I’ve been living with the Bunce’s since I was about ten, and while I enjoy them and am ever grateful that they took me in, it is dreadfully boring. 

So, of course, when it was announced that there was to be a party, and that a rich suitor was to be there, I knew I had to convince Penelope to go. (Not that she had much choice - Mrs. Bunce desperately wished for Penny to be married soon. However; her headstrong nature and fierce attitude often drove away any men who dared pursue her. _“I’ve no idea where she gets it from!”_ Mrs. Bunce would often say to me, _“It’s not like she’s at liberty to have a preference - we don’t have much of a name for ourselves on our own!”_ ) 

Despite her quite stubborn nature, Penny did usually listen to her mother and attend these parties and balls. She may not be actively looking for a man, but that’s never stopped her from scoping out the men who attend these parties. I once asked her about it and her only reply was, _“One may not be ordering, but one may certainly look at the menu.”_. 

I’ve always wondered what it was keeping Penny from settling down. We’d talked of it once. She’d told me that she felt it wasn’t necessary and that ‘settling down’ was for women who didn’t have enough confidence that they could find someone they truly loved. 

_“Why haven’t you found a wife yet, Simon?”_ She’d asked me that night. I simply blinked at her. The truth was, I wasn’t quite sure. Women simply didn’t interest me in the way they were supposed to; at least, none of the women I’d ever met had interested me other than Penny and Agatha, and I could never look at them as any more than friends. 

Perhaps, one day, I’ll meet a woman who interests me like she’s supposed to, and we’ll marry and have children and lead the rest of our lives in happiness. Perhaps I just haven’t met the right woman. Perhaps when I do I’ll no longer lay awake at night wondering if there might be something wrong with me. 

Perhaps I’ll have dreams of her rather than the faceless men who plague my sleep with their sweet lips and embrace… 

I answer none of this to Penny. Instead, I agree with her. _“I guess I don’t want to settle either.”_ I settle with, and she smiles at me. 

\---

Penny reads as she pretends to listen to me ramble about what to wear to the party. 

“You’ve heard that there’s to be a very rich suitor attending, right Pen?” I ask, pulling several garments out of my wardrobe and laying them on my bed. She doesn’t respond, so I continue. “Micah Cordero. He’s supposed to be quite handsome, y'know. Maybe you’ll take a liking to him.” This prompts Penny to finally set down her book.

“Good Lord, Si. With all that you talk of him I’d imagine that it was you trying to marry him.” She laughs, and I force a smile. 

I love parties - the dressing up, the dancing, the food - but I’ve never gone for the _courting_ aspect of it. Sure, the women there are attractive (as are the men,) but I have more fun not worrying about my potential suitors. If it were up to me, I’d never marry. I’d live in a cottage out in the wild with Penny away from society where I could bake and she could read. 

“You have to admit that just his wealth alone is quite handsome, no?” Penny eyes me before reaching back for her book. After a few minutes of reading she turns her attention back to me.

“The grey one looks best, wear that one.” 

\---

Quickly - too quickly - the night of the party arrives, and the whole family travels to the party (excluding Mr. Martin; he doesn’t enjoy parties). The room is loud and lively, and immediately I feel warm and happy. There’s jolly music and everyone in the room is dancing and drinking. 

“Isn’t it fantastic?” I whisper to Penny, who nods to me before disappearing into the crowd of people. No doubt to get a drink. Poor Pen can only last so long sober at one of these events. 

I scan the room. In the back are older men and women laughing over a pint, the front young ladies seated gossiping and hoping desperately for a dance. The middle was occupied with a small band and a large group whirling around. It’s very crass and most of the people dancing have no idea how, but it’s fine. I’ll still end up joining anyway. 

From across the dance floor I lock eyes with Agatha, and she grins at me as she walks to meet me. She’s wearing a simple purple gown tonight, and her pale blonde hair is expertly pinned into a bun. She’s one of the most beautiful women I know; how she’s not married yet, I’ll never understand. She takes my hands and kisses both of my cheeks.

“Oh, Simon! It’s so very good to see you!” She runs a hand through my messy curls, grin never faltering. “You’re going to come dance with me, aren’t you? I really hope so, you’re such a terrific dancer. Have you heard about Mr. Cordero, haven’t you? He hasn’t arrived yet. Allegedly he’s bringing his equally rich friend with him; a Mr. Tryannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” I snort.

“What kind of name is that? Is he a vampire?” I ask, jokingly. She giggles in reply. I can tell that she’s had a few drinks in her already, so I avoid going near the drinks while I’m with her. Instead, I head to the center of the room, eager to join the next dance. 

However, the dance is interrupted as the doors open. The music stops, and everyone in the room grows silent. Mr. Cordero enters, earning a few bows and some hushed whispers. 

“That’s him!” Agatha says, perhaps a bit too loudly. I shush her. Micah is quite charming; he’s tall, and well filled out. Broad shoulders and tan skin. His hair is a dusty brown, and it’s combed elegantly to the back. He’s quite attractive, actually. Just not really my type I guess.

I smile politely as he walks past me and watch as his gaze falls upon Penny. He smiles, which warrants Penny to blush just slightly as she struggles to curtesy and look up at the same time. It’s quite endearing.

Behind him trails whom I’m assuming is Mr. Pitch. He’s… _breathtaking_. He’s tall, and lean. His skin is deathly pale, and his shoulder length shining black hair looks so very soft. I have to keep myself from reaching out to touch it. He’s wearing a very expensive looking two piece black suit topped with a thick black overcoat. 

He looks almost like a vampire with his pronounced widow peak and pale complexion. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he smiled at me and I saw two fangs potruding from his mouth. 

Now it’s my turn to be flustered. He scans the crowd and gives me a glance. Unlike Mr. Cordero, he doesn’t smile. He just stares at me cooly before abruptly turning and following his friend. It’s bewildering. Agatha turns to me.

“Mr. Pitch seems to be more attractive than Mr. Cordero, no?” I nod, eyes still trained on the back of Mr. Pitch’s head.

I try to ignore the racing of my heart. It must be the wine. 

Mrs. Bunce is quick to introduce all of us to Mr. Cordero, herding us towards him as if we were sheep. I stand next to Penny for moral support. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Mrs. Mitali begins, “May I introduce my daughters Penelope” She smiles politely and bows, “Pandora,” Penny’s younger sister waves and giggles, “and of course Priscilla.” Priscilla curtseys and smiles wide. She’s the youngest and this is the first event Mrs. Bunce has allowed her to attend. She’s quite naive; however, she’s young so I don’t mind so much. 

Penny is quick to remind her mother to introduce me. Although there’s no reason to, I do suppose it could seem quite rude if she were to ignore me. I am her _adoptive_ son afterall. Mrs. Bunce touches my shoulder.

“Oh, of course! And this is my adopted son, Simon.” I bow and smile awkwardly, doing my best to avoid the judgeful gaze of Mr. Pitch. Mr. Cordero smiles and bows in response.

“I’m delighted to meet your acquaintances.” His smile is almost infectious. “May I introduce my good friend Basilton Pitch, of Pemberley.“

Against my better judgement, I steal a quick glance at Mr. Pitch who, unfortunately, was looking in my direction as I did so. He holds eye contact with me, looking unimpressed at the way my cheeks are beginning to heat up before raising one perfectly groomed eyebrow and turning his gaze towards the dance floor. 

I busy myself with dancing for the next hour, still unable to get him out of my mind.

\---

For what seems like centuries, I lose myself in the routine, watching curiously as Penny and Mr. Cordero acquaint themselves on the dance floor, smiling so much it makes my own jaw hurt. She looks so unbelievably happy, I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed to her on the spot. Suddenly I begin to feel quite ill, and I sit out on the next dance. Once again, I blame it on the drinks. 

The heavens must be punishing me for my sins, because when I turn to my left, none other than Mr. Pitch is leaning against the wall; a blank stare on his face. He turns to me and I smile. He does nothing in return.

I feel the urge to keep his attention, even if for a fleeting moment; so I attempt to make small talk with him.

“Do you enjoy dancing, Mr. Pitch?” He looks at me for a moment, and I’m surprised to see his usual unimpressed glower is gone, replaced with a glint of perhaps interest in his eye. It’s gone as soon as it appears.

“Not if I can help it.” He replies cooly, and excuses himself. I frown and leave to relocate Agatha. She’s talking and pretending to laugh at the jokes of a gentleman whom she's already declined once. As soon as I show up, she doesn’t hesitate to make an excuse to leave the poor man alone. _Thank you,_ she mouths to me as we walk away. 

\---

Agatha and I spend nearly two hours hiding in the back of the room near the drinks. A good idea? Perhaps not, but the two of us are too comfortable to leave our little haven away from the noise. The two of us are laughing and gossiping when I hear him.

The deep smooth voice of Mr. Pitch and the bubbling laugh of Mr. Cordero. I stare at Agatha and put a finger to my mouth as we attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“I’ve never seen so many pretty girls in my life!” Mr. Cordero exclaims, practically bursting with excitement. It’s quite charming.

“You were dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.” Mr. Pitch mumbles, uninterested. Agatha makes a face. 

“She’s the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.” Micah sighs. “Her sisters are sweet, and even her brother, Simon, is very agreeable.” I smile at Agatha and puff my chest out in confidence while she stifles a giggle.

“Barely tolerable.” Mr. Pitch replies, and immediately, my face falls. “I dare say, he’s not nearly handsome enough to tempt _any_ girl in this room.” I look down. My face is burning with embarrassment and I feel as if I might cry. 

“Agatha, I feel sick. I want to go.” I say abruptly. 

“You should find your girl and enjoy her smiles while you can rather than wasting your time with me.” Mr. Pitch finishes, and leaves the room. Agatha grabs my wrist and gives me a look of understanding. 

“Simon, Mr. Pitch has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s just miserable because no one woman would give him the time of day if he begged her for it.” I smile weakly and excuse myself.

What a dreadful man. 

\---

Later that night, I got my chance to one up Mr. Pitch once and for all. 

He, Penny, Mr. Cordero, Mrs. Bunce and I were all conversing about the party when it happened.

“-I wonder who first discovered poetry in driving away love!” I had joked, interrupting Mrs. Bunce from her oversharing before she was able to embarrass Pen. 

“I thought that poetry was the food of love.” Mr. Pitch stated, startling me to my core. I had almost forgotten he was standing across from me, as he was so dreadfully quiet. 

“Of a fine, stout love it may.” I replied, doing everything in my power to keep my voice steady. “But if it is only a vague inclination I’m convinced one good sonnet will starve it away.” I keep Mr. Pitch’s eye contact, a challenge if you will.

“So then what would you recommend to encourage affection?” Pitch raises a single eyebrow once again, but I’m a step ahead of him.

“Dancing.” I say, matter of factly. “But only if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

To the naked eye, one might say Mr. Pitch looked no different as I finished speaking, but I could tell from the flinch of his lip and the slight arch of his brow he’d recognized my hidden meaning. 

I smiled and excused myself, leaving the rest of the circle to wonder what it is that had just happened. I couldn’t help the pride that bubbled in my chest as I walked away. What a night.

  
  


**\- Baz -**

I can’t ignore the way my heart is beating as I watch him walk away.

I need another drink.

  
  
  



	2. The Touch

**\- Simon -**

“Do you think he likes me?’ Penny says, voice barely above a whisper. She’s in her nightgown, and she’s lying next to me in my bed. Her hair is a mess of curls on my pillow; her glasses set cautiously on my bedside table. She doesn’t even turn to me as she asks me this. She just continues to stare at the ceiling, awaiting my reply. I take her hand in mine.

“Pen, he spent half the night dancing with you and the rest of the night he spent staring at you. I think he more than fancies you.” She rolls on her side to face me, a wide grin spread on her face.

“Do you really believe he likes me?” I match her smile.

“Of course.” She studies my face for any signs of hesitation. After a few seconds, deciding I’m telling the truth, she turns her attention to our intertwined hands. Her grin falters for a moment, and I brace myself for what I know what she’s going to say.

“I’m so upset about what Mr. Pitch said about you. You should know that just because I fancy Micah doesn’t mean I care for Mr. Pitch one bit. I wouldn’t do that to you, Si.” She squeezes my hand as she says this, and I enjoy the warm feeling that blooms in my chest from the simple action. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, “but I doubt Mr. Pitch and I shall ever speak again.” 

Penny rolls back over, which is quite convenient for me, as it hides the disappointment that must be written all over my face. It infuriates me that such a man has an effect on my emotions. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so upset with his vanity had he not wounded mine. 

I feel the bed lift and Penny’s hand leave mine. She opens the door to my room and beams at me over her shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” I nod, eyes still focused on the ceiling as she gently shuts the door behind her. Through my window, I can see the bright moon and the stars surrounding it. Silently, I pray that tomorrow will be a better day.

\---

The next morning, Penny gets a letter from Mr. Cordero. He’s invited her over to have dinner with him at his new estate. I rarely see her smile so brightly.

“He’s asked that I travel to have a meal with them, Mama!” She exclaims, abandoning her omelette in front of her. Part of me (my stomach, likely) wonders if it's a bad time to ask if she’s going to finish it. I decided that it is. 

“Oh we must get a carriage straight away!” Priscilla gushes, which sends her and Pandora into a giggling fit until Mrs. Bunce abruptly silences them.

“No, she will not be travelling by carriage.” Mrs. Mitali declares, now tearing everyone’s attention away from their previous engagements to gawk at her. “She will ride by horse.”

“But mama it’s supposed to rain, I’ll drown before I make it-” Penny complains, only to be ignored. In the distance, thunder cracks.

We eat the rest of breakfast in silence. 

\---

Like Penny had predicted, it begins to rain shortly after she departs. Much to the family’s surprise however, we get a swift letter announcing that due to the incoming storm, Penny will be staying with Mr. Cordero at his estate for the night. 

As I read the letter I see Mrs. Bunce’s mouth raise into a knowing smirk. I look up from my reading to gape at her. 

“Did you plan for this to happen?” I joke, and Mrs. Bunce just smiles. 

“A real lady never reveals her secrets.” 

It isn’t but a day when we get another letter signed by Mr. Cordero:

  
  


_ Mr and Mrs. Bunce, _

_ I am upset to inform you that Miss Penelope has become ill with a weak cold. There’s nothing wrong with her other than a slight cough and a fever. I have decided to let her stay with me until she is apt enough to travel again. _

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Micah Cordero _

  
  


“Oh, dear Penny! I hope she is okay!” Pandora cried when I had read it.

“It’s a cold, Pandora, not a disease.” Priscilla scoffed.

“You don’t know that!”

“Mr. Cordero said so in his letter! And people don’t die from colds!”

“People  _ can  _ die from colds.” 

“Well Penelope is not  _ people _ . I doubt anything could kill her in her stubbornness.” 

“Sounds like someone I know.” 

I quickly excuse myself to my room to get away from the incessant bickering of the twins. I feel a twinge of sadness that Penelope isn’t here to laugh. Perhaps I should visit her...

I tear through my closet and pack a dozen shirts and trousers into my chest. Why wait for Penelope to come back home when I could go to her? 

I walk to the Cordero Estate. It’s not dreadfully far and I rather enjoy walking, so I do. The weather is perfect; not too hot, but not too cold either, and there’s a nice breeze shaking the trees as I pass by. It’s only when I arrive, the cuffs of my trousers cakes with mud and my hair a messy mop of curls on top of my head, that I realize that walking may have been a mistake.

I am escorted into the home only to find Micah’s sister Caroline and none other than Mr. Pitch. Today, he’s opted for a thin white silk shirt which is neatly tucked into his black trousers. His black coat is strewn across the couch, abandoned. 

If I didn’t know any better I would say that my presence shocked him, as he immediately abandoned his book and stood upright when he saw me enter. Miss Cordero is the first to speak.

“My God, did you walk here?” She laughs, and my face heats up in embarrassment. I look down, eager to avoid her sharp gaze. 

“My sister-” I begin, but I’m cut off by Mr. Pitch.

“She’s upstairs.” I look up and we make eye contact. He’s standing now, watching me curiously, and I feel vulnerable under his eyes.

“Thank you…” I reply, still watching him. After another moment I realize I must seem rude staring at him and I journey to find Penny.

  
  


\-  **Baz -**

As Simon Snow enters the room, I’m so utterly shaken that I abandon the book I’ve been reading and stand. What for? I’ve not a clue. 

His trousers have mud on them and his beautiful curls are a complete mess from the wind. If I didn’t know any better I’d ask him if he walked.

“My God,” Miss Cordero remarks, “did you walk here?” The loveliest pink blooms across Simon’s face, and I do everything in my power not to smile because of it. 

I can’t believe that he’s real. That he’s here, right now, in arms reach… I also can’t believe that all of this is currently running through my head considering that he hates me (as he should) after I insulted him behind his back (definitely not one of my best moments). 

I know I’m in no position to be intrigued by him after what I’d said, but I’m weak and my mind and thoughts cannot be so easily controlled.

That is, unless, you’re Simon Snow. 

Simon’s last name is actually Salisbury. I know this as I was informed by Micah that he was adopted (considering the drastic difference between him and Penelope, I assumed so). Allegedly, his sisters all call him by his middle name, Snow, and I couldn’t help but think it charming. I’ve used it to refer to him in my head since. 

  
  


I realize that it’s been nearly a full minute since anyone’s spoken and quickly break my eye contact with Simon Snow. 

  
  
  


**-Simon-**

When I enter, Penny is nearly asleep; hair in a messy bun and glasses set on her nightstand. She doesn’t look too ill, but Penny is never one to show weakness, so I think nothing of it. She smiles when she notices me beside her.

“Simon!” She smiles as if I were the first person she’s seen in weeks, which I find rather peculiar. I sit next to her on her bed and stroke her hair. “My dear Simon, how is everyone?” I laugh quietly at her overly affectionate nature. She must be well rested. 

“Everyone is doing well. We’re all eager to know how you are. Still sick?” She nods solemnly. 

“Yes, yes, I am rather weak. However it’s lovely spending time with Mr. Cordero. He’s just so sweet. He spends most of his time keeping me company. Although I do feel rather guilty taking up so much of his attention.” I push her gently.

“Oh please, we all know you’re faking it to spend time with him. But it is good to hear that he’s treating you nicely. I do hope I didn’t interrupt his proposal.” Now it’s Penny’s turn to push me. She stops when the door creaks open and Mr. Cordero steps in. As soon as he locks eyes with Penny he smiles.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” He says quietly, before stepping back into the hallway.

“Oh please Mr. Cordero, do not worry about Simon. He’s only checking on my health. You’re perfectly welcome.” I nod in agreement. Micah walks back in and seats himself on the window sill, rubbing a hand sheepishly on his neck. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you Mr. Salisbury.” He says and bows. 

“Oh, please, call me Simon.” He nods politely.

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure having Miss Bunce here. I’m quite glad she caught this cold.” I raise an eyebrow and he realizes his mistake, his eyes widening significantly. “I mean, it’s not good that she’s ill. That’s terrible, I’m  _ so _ unhappy she’s ill. I’m just glad I was able to spend time with her is all.” He’s beginning to sweat now. Poor thing. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, I decide I should see myself out. 

“Well,” I begin, “I really must be going back.” I kiss Penny on the forehead and smile politely at Micah. I’m barely a foot out the door when I hear Mr. Cordero call after me.

“Oh, Mr. Salis- Simon, you’re welcome to stay for a night! I’m sure Penny would enjoy a familiar face around.” I’m about to refuse when I see Penny nod out of the corner of my eye, and, because I’m weak, I can’t bear to say no. 

When Micah leaves, I glare at Penny and whisper, “You owe me.” She just rolls her eyes as I follow one of Mr. Cordero’s staff to the guest bedrooms. 

\---

That afternoon, I spend some time with Mr. Cordero, Miss Cordero, and (reluctantly) Mr. Pitch.

I seat myself in the living room with my book; opposite of Mr. Cordero who’s seated on the couch in front of me fumbling with a cushion. Mr. Pitch is writing (a letter I presume) and Miss Caroline is leaning against the table, attempting to make conversation with Mr. Pitch. However, she’s not gotten very much out of him so far.

“You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Pitch.” Caroline drawls. She’s wearing a beautiful red gown which blends beautifully with her striking ginger hair. She and Micah share that characteristic. She leans seductively against the table, but Mr. Pitch does nothing to suggest he’s noticed her at all.

“You’re mistaken,” Mr. Pitch says, matter of factly, “I write rather slowly.” I return to my book, hoping Mr. Pitch’s unenthusiasm has finally tired Caroline out...

It has not.

“How many letters you must have occasion to write, Mr. Pitch.” Caroline remarked. “Letters of business, too. How odious I should think them.” No response. Caroline changes tactics as Micah and I pretend not to eavesdrop. 

“Do tell your sister that I long to see her.” At this Mr. Pitch finally looks up, although the crease in his brows is enough for one to know that he’s not enjoying this banter.

“I’ve already written her once, by your desire.” 

“I do dote on her.” Caroline completely ignores the glare Mr. Pitch seems to be giving her. Is he always like this around women? Rude and tense? “I was quite enraptured at her beautiful little design for a table-”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Pitch interrupts, fully setting his pen down, “you will give me leave to defer your raptures until I write again. In present I am not well enough to do them justice.” I cringe at the coldness of his voice and will myself back to my book. This proves to be a difficult task, as Mr. Cordero is insistent on continuing this conversation. 

“Well, I think young ladies are amazing to have so much patience to be so accomplished.” He laughs. Genuinely, not out of spite or mockery. Caroline raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, Micah?” 

“You all paint tables, and play the piano, and embroider cushions! I never heard of a young lady, but they say she is accomplished.” I smile at him, only because I know that it’s what Penny would if she were here. 

“The word is indeed applied too liberally.” Mr. Pitch states, and I hold back the urge to roll my eyes. “I cannot boast to know anymore than half-a-dozen women in all my acquaintance that are truly accomplished.”

“Nor I, to be sure.” Caroline agrees. I can’t hold my tongue any longer.

“Goodness, you must comprehend a great deal in the idea.” I blurt, and Mr. Pitch turns to look at me, completely abandoning his writing. His eyes are a misty shade of grey, like the sky during a storm. 

“I do.” He replies, and I turn back to my book. 

“Absolutely.” Caroline agrees again. “She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word.” She holds her head high. “And something in her air, and manner of walking.” 

“And of course she must improve her mind through extensive reading.” Mr. Pitch adds. I close my book harshly.

“I’m no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_.” I surprise myself, and from the way that Mr. Pitch turns to look at me, I assume I surprise him too with my words. 

“Are you so severe on the female sex?” Mr. Pitch queries. 

“I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold. I don’t know how you’ll ever marry if you continue to keep your standards so unbelievably high.” 

“Who ever said I was looking for a woman to marry?” Mr. Pitch fires back. I tell myself I imagined the slight intention he put on the word woman. Could he possibly mean..? 

We don’t break eye contact until Micah chuckles, shocking us out of our little world, and I’m able to breathe again. 

\---

The next day, we’re visited by the rest of my family excluding Mr. Martin. The three of them wander in and sit themselves hip to hip on the couch, admiring the room and decor unabashedly. Mrs. Mitali is whispering to herself something about the expensive furniture and the twins are definitely plotting something by the way they’re giggling and mumbling. 

They make themselves comfortable in the living room immediately, and; much to my annoyment, the twins strike up conversation with Mr. Cordero. 

“Oh Mr. Cordero, you’ve such a splendid house!” Priscilla fawns, batting her eyelashes. “Such a perfect place to hold a ball!” I look up from my book and give her a sharp glare, which she avoids. Mr. Cordero smiles anyway, surprisingly not upset by her lack of tact. 

“Balls are great ways to meet new people! Since you’re planning to stay it would be a good idea to get to know everyone here.” Priscilla continues. 

“You should invite the militia! They would make excellent company.” Pandora adds. I sigh and massage my temple. Mrs. Bunce tells me that they went to the parade today and that the twins were very adamant about meeting an officer. Priscilla even threw her handkerchief into the street in hopes one of them would pick it up and return it to her. According to Pandora, it was trampled and Priscilla pouted about it for a full hour. 

“Well then, you shall name the date the minute your sister is recovered.” Micah’s generosity never fails to surprise me. The twins squeal with excitement and whisper among themselves about how they have to buy new ribbons and decide what to wear.

\---

Before I realize it, Penny is no longer ill, and it’s time to return home. I’m suddenly upset I didn’t try harder to get to know Mr. Cordero, as he seemed very nice. However, I’m sure my company would have kept him from Penny, and that was the last thing I wanted. 

The carriage is waiting as I gather my things and walk towards it. I thank Caroline vaguely for her kindness she bestowed upon me (if you could call it that), and bow politely to Micah when I pass him. Mr. Pitch stands next to our carriage as he says goodbye to Penny. 

“Mr. Pitch.” I acknowledge as I bow. I’m reluctant to meet his eyes. 

“Mr. Simon.” He replies, mimicking my bow. I like the way my name sounds when he says it, but I would never admit it aloud. 

As I step into the carriage I’m surprised to feel Mr. Pitch’s cold hand in mind, assisting me as I climb up the steps. It sets every part of me aflame and I let my touch linger for a moment too long before I hesitantly pull back. 

I spend the entire ride home thinking of the way his cool touch felt against my skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clenches fist* T h e y t o u c h e d h a n d s
> 
> Thank you for reading chapter two!! If you enjoyed it feel free to leave kudos and/or a comment letting me know! They’re what keeps me motivated to write :) 
> 
> Coming up: A dance, and so much sexual tension that you could cut it with a knife


	3. Rosebud boy

**-Penny-**

* * *

Simon has never been normal. I mean it in the nicest way possible, truly. He’s nothing like any of the men I’ve ever met before. He doesn’t change anything about himself to please others, he doesn’t hold his tongue when he sees something unjust, and you can always count on him to bring joy to a room, no matter the occasion. I envy him for that.

Simon’s always had an natural ability to make anyone and everyone completely fall in love with him. Mum says that I’m the beauty of the family, and that ‘any man would be lucky to have me’, but I’m not so sure that she’s telling the truth. I am not dainty like my sisters, I’m not quiet like Agatha, and I’m certainly not ladylike like Lady Caroline. I’m nothing like a woman ought to be, yet my mother cherishes me anyway. As does Simon. And I guess that’s all that truly matters. 

I watch Simon as he eats his breakfast, (Devours it, really.) and wonder if perhaps Micah truly is the one for me. He’s shown me so much kindness, even when there was nothing for him to gain from it. He took great care of me at his manor, and always put me first. He always spoke to me truthfully. He never lied to me about what he felt or why he felt that way. He always looked at me with something more than polite fondness… something more along the lines of love.

That scares me. Love. Is it true that one can fall out of love just as easily as she fell in love? Or is love only a made up fairytale? I make a mental note to ask either Simon or Mum later today.

“Penny,” Simon whispers, breaking me out of my profound stupor. His bright blue eyes are staring straight into me. I don’t like eye contact with Simon. It’s like staring directly into the sun. I look at him and wonder if whoever ends up marrying him will feel the same way. Each time he laughs you’re consumed by his light. I don’t know that anyone could truly be deserving of his light. He points down at the scone on my plate.

“Are you going to eat that?” I shake my head and he snatches it from my plate and stifle a laugh. Hopefully he’ll end up with someone who has enough money to feed his appetite. 

\---

Late in the night I visit Simon in his room. He’s sitting on his bed, staring out the window at the stars. The room is dark except for the faint glow of a candle on his bed stand and the light of the moon that shines on his bronze curls.

He looks like a ghost. I gently take a seat next to him on the bed, and I hear his breath catch. His blue eyes are glassy, and there's wet streaks on his freckled cheeks. 

He’s been crying.

“Simon?” I whisper hesitantly. I’ve barely ever seen Simon cry. I wonder what happened to upset him. I wonder if it could have been me. 

Silence. He doesn’t respond. I echo his silence. Better not to upset him more than he already is. Did I interrupt him? Should I go? Is he going to kick me out and pretend this never happened?

I’m just about to leave him be when he gingerly places his hand atop mine.

“Penny,” he whispers carefully, “do you believe what they teach us at church?” He’s talking to me, but he continues to stare out the window. It’s eerie. 

“Yes.” I answer quietly. “Yes I do. Do you?” More silence. A tear falls down his cheek and onto our joined hands. After what seems like years of quiet, he tears his gaze away from the sky. For the first time since I’ve entered the room I’m able to properly look at him. His eyes are red and puffy. His nightshirt is wet where his tears fell and his hair is a mess from continuously raking his hands through it. His other hand - the one I’m not holding - is turning white with how hard he’s gripping the sheets on his bed. 

“I think there is something… wrong… with me.” He sniffles. I can’t seem to find my voice to ask him what he means. Or to tell him that nothing could ever be wrong with him. I raise my eyebrow instead. “I-” He starts, but he can’t seem to speak without crying. He swallows hard and tries again to no avail. I rub his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. After a few minutes, he tries again. “I have… dreams. Frequently.” He falters. “I’m not sure why and… and I can’t… I don’t know  _ how  _ to make them go away.” 

“Simon, you mean your nightmares? I thought you stopped having those?” He shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something else but changes his mind just a moment later and stands up, abandoning me on the bed. 

“Have you ever been in love, Pen?” He asks quietly, once again avoiding my eyes.

“I don’t see how this is connected to your nightmares, Si-” He cuts me off and tries again.

“Have you ever been in love?” 

“I-I suppose so, yes.” I answer him. He looks so nervous. I just wish he would come and sit back down. It’s beginning to worry me. 

“I’ve never been in love, Penny.” He’s raising his voice just a bit, and I can tell he’s stressed because he’s pacing around the foot of the bed. “I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way I’m supposed to feel, I’ve never met a  _ woman  _ who’s made me feel what I am supposed to feel!” 

I want to interrupt him and ask him what’s going on about, but he’s not done yet, so I stay quiet, doing my best to piece the puzzle together in my mind.

“I- I keep having these dreams about… about men and  _ they  _ make me feel so much more than I’ve ever felt. I know it’s not right but… I can’t make them stop” He looks at me, sobs are racking through him at this point, making his hands tremble.

“Si, I don’t think I’m following…” 

“I’m wrong, Penny!” Simon bellows, making me jump. “Something is wrong with me! Something-” Gently, I get up from the bed and walk towards Simon, wrapping my arms around him. He slides his arms around my waist hesitantly, like he might break. Like he  _ could  _ break.  _ Like he’s broken.  _

I don’t know how long we spend clung to each other, but eventually I begin to cry too. It breaks my heart to see him like this. Hurting. Vulnerable...  _ Simon,  _ I think.  _ Who could ever think that there’s anything wrong with you? _

Simon talks very little of his past. He doesn’t remember much of it anyway, but what he does remember… isn’t a good childhood to say the least. One good thing he did remember; however, was his mother. A woman with beautiful blonde curls and tan skin.  _ ‘She used to call me her Rosebud boy.’  _ Simon had said to me one morning.  _ ‘She would wrap me up in her arms and call me her rosebud boy… her star.’ _ He never brought it up again. I wonder what she would say right now.

By the time Simon has stopped crying, we’re laying on his bed. Simon’s resting his head in my lap and I’m combing through his curls with my fingers. I cup his face with my hands and look down at him.

“Simon,” I whisper, and he turns to me, eyes still glassy, but not on the verge of tears. “you are not broken. You are not wrong, and you do not need to change.” He stares at me like I just grew a pair of horns. I wonder if anyone has ever told him this and decide that it’s likely no one has. “I don’t care what the priests tell you, I don’t care what an old book tells you, I don’t care what anyone else says you are beautiful and you are so  _ right _ .” Simon laughs a bit, still wiping his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He chokes. I nod again, running hand thumb along his cheek. When I was younger I would trace the freckles on his cheeks and connect them as if they were constellations. 

“Yeah.” I respond. 

We spend another hour laying on his bed in silence, staring at the ceiling. I decide against asking any personal questions - in case I upset him. He doesn’t say anything either, but he holds my hand. Almost like he needed to know I was still there. I squeeze his hand three times, and he turns to me. 

“It’s late, Pen. You should go to bed.” Simon yawns, and I roll my eyes. “Mr. Collins is visiting tomorrow for dinner.”

“The dreaded cousin.” I grumble, and Simon laughs. It’s a remarkable sound. “It is quite late.” I groan. When I look at him this time, he’s smiling.  _ Never let anyone take that smile away from you, Simon.  _ I think. 

“Goodnight, Penny.” He whispers. I yawn and sit up, stretching before I stand up and walk to the door. 

“Goodnight.” I respond. I open his door and look out into the hallway. Before I leave the room, I turn back around. “Simon?” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Pen.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short, but I'll hopefully be able to finish up the next chapter soon and post it here :) Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave kudos and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you liked about it! 
> 
> This shouldn’t be a very long fic, but I’m still not completely sure. This chapter was not meant to be 2k words long but oh well haha
> 
> See u next chapter :)


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